Tomorrow Will Be Kinder
by ClosetDegrassiLover
Summary: Some secrets never see the light of day. They burrow within us until they mark our very genetic structure - tainting us for our lives. They say time heals all, but I'm not sure that's true. Perhaps tomorrow will be kinder... Clare/Asher Story Two-Shot.
1. Chapter 1

**On Tumblr today, there was a lot of discussion with the Clare/Asher plot and its effect on rape culture, so I decided to come out of hiding and do a Clare One-Shot. In this, I tried to perpetuate the feeling that the victim is actually the culprit, even if it's not true.**

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

_By ClosetDegrassiLover_

It all started with crying over spilt milk.

No, seriously. I wish it wasn't something so trivial, and I'd like to think I can rationalize my reaction, but I simply can't. It's strange how incredibly easy it was to pretend like everything is all right. I convinced everyone around - except for myself, that is.

When I found out I lost my internship, I could feel myself slipping away from this world. I'd done everything right, I'd reported him, I'd told my superiors; so how could this have happened. Was it... my fault? What did I do to deserve this? Maybe if I hadn't been alone with him so often or so hell-bent on impressing him. Maybe if I'd gone to Arcade Fire with Eli, simply to prove that I have other relationships. Maybe... maybe it was my fault. Maybe I did deserve this.

Even so, I still feel his fingers on me. I thought that'd go away by now, but it has yet to subside. They feel slimy and permeate with a film that I can never wash off. No matter how many times I scrubbed my hands, my face, my legs, he's still there, touching them. He's still caressing me. He's still kissing me. Even when I scrubbed my body raw, until the pink tinge of my skin was relatively alarming, he's still there. "You failed me." He says and I hear it in my nightmares. "Disappointing."

"Clare!"

I leap when I hear my name, making Jake chuckle. I offer him a smile to repair the damage to my lie and it seems good enough to quell whatever reservations he's had. Instead, he continues with his story about his date with Katie to my mom, Glen and I. I'm only half-listening. Only enough to make the proper responses - the nod of a head, the widening of my eyes. I can even chuckle if I feel so inclined and it sounds real. It sounds warm. I'm not though. In fact, I'm very cold.

They would all be so disappointed in me. Every last one of them. My mom would send me away for being promiscuous and Eli would break up with me. How can I admit to them that I'm a whore? An unintentional one, but still one nonetheless? I made this happen to me - I'm entirely convinced. Now, I have to give friends the only pieces of my heart I have left and tainted ones at that. Everyone's taken them, willing to believe the lie over the truth. Sometimes I think that I am transparent and they know something's wrong, but don't want to deal with it. Dramatic Clare Edwards, that's what they'd say. There she goes again, trying to make a scene. Wouldn't life be better if she just disappeared? Wouldn't it be quieter if she stopped talking?

If she died?

I shiver. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. I've never felt like less than who I was than I do right now. Maybe that'd be the only way to get him off of me. To get the searing pain of his lips on mine to go away.

"-and then she proceeded to climb the tree to get it for me, can you believe it?" Jake laughs, reaching across the table to grab seconds. "In high heels, she's climbing this tree-"

As he reaches across the table, his forearm knocks my glass of milk over, the contents spilling over my dress and seeping into my clothes. I gasp from the chill, the white liquid dripping onto the floor and spreading cold down to my toes. Jake grabs the glass, crying, "Oh, I'm sorry Clare!" without much thought.

I sit there, scooted slightly away from the table, my hands raised by instinct. It's not that big of a deal. I don't even like this dress very much. If it was ruined and I never wore it again, it wouldn't necessarily bother me.

But, for some reason it is a big deal. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes and I can't stop it. A flood of emotion washes over me and every dark thought that's haunted me is hitting me all at once, sitting on my chest like a ghost. A few tears spill and I hear a sob, taking a few moments to realize it's coming from me. I cover my mouth to try and stop it, but it's too late. It's like a monster is eating me alive and I can't stop it, no matter how much I like. So I cry over spilt milk, causing everyone at the table to stare at me as if I've lost the last portion of my mind.

"Clare, it's really not that big of a deal, we can wash it out." My mother says exasperatedly. Or really, her usual tone with me. As her new marriage has lengthened, it seems her tolerance of me shorted with it.

I can't stop, though. Tears are streaming down my face and I can't see. And there I am, lost from this world. I'm transported back to the car, hearing the deafening sound of the doors being locked, like nails on a coffin. His hand is grazing my cheek, brushing a few wayward strands of hair away and he leaves a grimy imprint on my flesh.

Glen stands from his chair, leaning over with a napkin. "Clare, let me just help you-"

"Do not touch me!" I shout, still in the car and suffocating. Except this time, I don't just sit there and let it happen. This time, I swing my arm back and connect with his face, the slap resounding at the dining table.

But it's not him. I blink a few times and realize, I'm not in the car. Well, not really. Glen has his own hand covering his cheek, his eyes so wide with surprise that he doesn't say anything. No one does.

Like that, I'm totally lost.

Jumping from my chair so quick I knock it over, I can barely hear the protests as I dart from my house. Maybe they didn't actually protest. Maybe I just wished they would. I can't really be sure what's real anymore, it seems.

My legs move on their own accord, dashing through the chilly night. It's raining, the drop piercing like ice against my skin, the breeze freezing every part of me that's been drenched in milk. My crying has increased, reaching an almost deranged level, causing my whole body to tremble. I could've sworn I was back in the car. It felt like I was. I could feel his grimy presence all over me once more.

Without realizing it, I approached the bench that was so familiar. It held such fond memories - and such terrible ones at that. Sitting down, I let my body crumble. Hunched over and gasping for air, I grieve. Grieve for everything. The loss of my innocence, my self-respect, and my life. I should've expected this, but I have to understand now; it isn't my life anymore. I'm chained to a monster, forever forcing me to do his bidding. I am no longer Clare Edwards. Clare Edwards would've never put herself in this situation. She wasn't a whore. She wasn't a monster.

But I am.

After waking up to the painful cold of rain and daybreak, I realize I've made a terrible error. A new day is here and I'm still laying the bench, my body stiff from being huddling in the fetal position all night. It hurts and I try and stretch my legs out, my body protesting as I stand up. I stumble, correcting myself with the bench, earning a few disgusted looks from passerby's, hearing them utter "another teenage basket case" under their breath.

My dress is soaked, any trace of the milk now gone, but leaving a stain on my soul. I'm too afraid to go home and listen to lectures about my insubordination. Of how selfish and uncaring I've been since the marriage. Maybe I deserve them, but it doesn't make me any more inclined to listen.

Instead, I start to school, feeling fortunate I still had my Degrassi I.D. of from dinner. When I step into the school entrance everyone is staring. I would be to, probably. With my water-logged clothes and smeared makeup, I probably looked mentally deranged. At least the outside is matching the inside now. It's all I can do to walk through the glass doors without losing it once more, stepping down the hallway and leaving a trail of water puddles as I continued.

Down the hall I see Eli, his eyes lighting up with worry when he sees my soaked form. Maybe I didn't think this through. I turn to double back and decide to make an excuse later, but am then greeted with Jake stomping toward me from the other side of the hall, determined. As my last route of escape, I turn to leave the school, only to see Dallas stepping in with his pathetic band of hockey followers, who've made it their mission not to win games, but make my life a living Hell after I wrote about homophobia bullying and its direct relation with questioning masculinity, alluding heavily to the hockey team.

This was the Unholy Trinity of people I did not want to interact with.

So, with a final hail-Mary, I go dart into the one place where none of them can follow me: the girl's washroom.

I bury myself in the final stall, locking it behind me. I start to feel a little claustrophobic, the walls of the stall seemingly coming closer. A slam of the door snaps me out of my reverie. "Edwards!" A call from the entrance makes me put my feet up on the toilet seat. "Edwards, I know you're in here. I can literally see the pool of water in the stall. Get your butt out."

I'm not entirely sure who's yelling at me, but I'm not about to comply.

"Colonel Sanders and Emo Boy are camping out at the entrance of the girl's bathroom, so you may as well come out." It's definitely a she, but it's hard for me to wrap my mind around who I think it is. Why would she even care?

She pounds on the door of the stall a few times, making me flinch. "I can do this all day." She says, repeatedly hitting the door so the walls rattle.

"Fine!" I snap, though my voice sounds like it's been through a shredder.

Unlatching the door, I'm surprised to see Bianca, whose eyes widen when I do so. "Good God, you look like shit."

"What do you want?" I ask firmly, not leaving the stall.

"And here I thought they were just being drama queens..." She mutters to herself. "Why do you look like you just slept in a pool? Because you don't really strike me as the 'Last Friday Night' kind of person."

"What do you want?"

Bianca eyes me. "What I want is to be able to walk to class without being accosted in the hall by two senior dweebs, demanding I go into the girl's washroom. Seeing as now that's not a possibility," She brushes her hair behind her shoulder. "Now I want to know what in the hell is going on with you. You owe me an explanation."

"I owe you an explanation?" I exclaim. "In what universe do I 'owe' you anything?"

"Because if I'm going to risk my parole by skipping my classes today and taking you somewhere with clean socks, I demand to know why I'm doing it."

Her words stop me, lacing in a kindness I haven't heard in a while. A concern that I didn't know existed. And certainly didn't expect it to come in the form of Bianca DeSousa. "W-Why-" I stop, feeling tears once more. I try to stop them, focusing my weeks of practice of being cold on it. "Why would you do that?" She shrugs.

I want to accept. I want to confide. I want to spill my secret to Bianca DeSousa and let the monster rage at my rebellion.

But then everyone would know. And leave.

"You don't need to risk your parole for me." I say, taking a breath to quell my emotions and wipe my expression clean. Robotic. Distant. Just like I've practiced. "That would be silly and probably a waste of your time."

"But-"

"If you do want to help, though, distracting the duo at the door would be much appreciated." I say with a warm smile, every drop of kindness as authentic as if it were real. "You're right, I wasn't thinking when I came to school, looking like this." I laugh and it sounds real. Bianca's tension is slipping - I can feel her believing me. Just like everyone else. "I don't even think I could explain this getup, even if I wanted to. I'll probably just go home, shower, and change. Can you do that for me?"

I ask with such sincerity and brightness, I can see her resolve slipping before my eyes. As she drops a hip casually, I applaud myself. I am triumphant once more. "Fine." She says with a smile. "I've never understood you, Edwards."

"Surprisingly not the first time I've heard that." I banter back. My natural wit is the final straw and Bianca rolls her eyes and heads toward the door.

I've won.

"Hey, this is the women's washroom!" She snaps once opening the door. Both Jake and Eli peek their heads through the entrance, but Bianca puts an arm up, blocking their view as I scurry out of sight. "What is with Degrassi boys and not understanding that concept? Emo Boy - don't you have some slam poetry session to get to? And Flannel - KFC is that way. Get lost!"

My back's against the stall, but I barely feel it there, supporting me. I don't recognize my reflection. Who is that girl? A whore. A failure. A waste of life.

"Done!" Bianca says cheerfully, clearly quite proud of herself.

I smile. "Thank you so much. You're awesome."

"Stating the obvious, but thank you." She quips, turning to her own reflection to fix her lip gloss. "Next time, don't come to school looking so... soggy. Save you a lot of trouble."

"You're right," I reply. "It would."

As I exit the school, there's no one in the halls. I half-expected Eli to jump out of the closet or Jake to be hiding in his truck, but they're not. One of these days, they're going to finally see the new me. They'll leave. Guys always do.

I step out of Degrassi, shivering. School is supposed to be safe. School is supposed to be a place where kids are put first. Instead, I've received a life of almost-stabbings, shootings, and plays almost lighting the building ablaze. But the worst? School-sanctioned internships that transform me into something vile. Something grotesque.

This school has turned me into a monster.

I don't feel any better than I did yesterday. They say only time can heal, but as I see it, nothing's happening. If anything, I feel worse. Down to my soaked socks and chilled bones, it isn't any better than yesterday, like I wished.

Perhaps tomorrow will be kinder.

**A/N: Leave a review if you have time! It'd be much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well… this wasn't supposed to be a two-shot, really. But then I got convinced by an Anon on Tumblr to make a second section to this – so thank them! …metaphorically because they're anonymous. I decided to switch to Eli's POV, even though this is Clare's plot, because then I can explore a different aspect of it: people looking in after the character's guilt. To quote Munro, 'Leggo!'.**

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder, Part 2

_By ClosetDegrassiLover_

I don't know if I'm blind or just stupid.

There isn't a moment that I can recall, pinpointing when my alive, beautiful, and passionate girlfriend became a ghost. I've tried to go back, wondering if there were signs or some sort of instance that I can nod and say, 'Yes, this is when it began', but I can't. How long did it take me to realize it? I suppose there were subtle clues, like a smile not fully extending to the corners of her mouth or an occasional half-listened conversation where she robotically said all of the right words.

Maybe I wanted to hear them. Things have been going so well lately, maybe I didn't want to ruin it. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a purpose. I know what school I want to attend, who I want to become, and who I want to be around. And yet, in my selfish endeavors, I didn't even bother to realize my own girlfriend was collapsing upon herself. Now, it may be too late.

You never know when you cross that line into 'too late'. It was too late for me, but no one knew it until I drove my hearse into a wall. It took something terrible to happen for anyone to know – except for Clare, of course. Maybe that's what makes this so terrible. She knew when I wasn't okay, but was it really so hard for me to reciprocate the gesture? I guess the answer is yes. I didn't want anything to be wrong, after my life was finally feeling right for the first time in ages.

Jake said it all started with spilt milk. A seemingly harmless mistake that turned into a monstrous nightmare. But it took this one incident for all the pieces to fall into place, all the signs to become clear. The worst part is, she'd been giving us all these signs for who knows how long, but we all refused to see them.

Clare sits next to me, seamlessly shrugging my arm off her shoulder, fiddling with her necklace. I'm brought back to months ago at the unraveling of our relationship before, except something was different about this time. Self-preservation or something, if I let my mind wander a little melodramatically. She even scoots a ways away from me on the bench, putting at least half a foot between us. I can't help but stare, completely dumfounded by these actions.

"Ms. Oh said that since the internship opened up earlier than expected, I could expect a phone call from him in a few weeks!" Katie chirps happily, snuggling into the crook of Jake's arm.

Something lights up in Clare's eyes. Suddenly, she's paying attention. Not the sideways paying attention she's been doing for weeks, the half-paying attention to where she knows exactly what to say and when to say it, but intently listening. "Really? So you're going to be interning over break?" Jake asks, unable to hide the bummed tone in his voice.

"Yeah, but clearly Eli and Clare could manage it, so I'd reckon we could to." She responds.

Now Clare's sitting straight up, her eyes wide in horror. Somehow, just this one looks makes me scared. I'm not sure why. I've only see her look like this once, and I never wanted to see it again. The school dance, what feels like lifetimes ago, when we were staring at a flash of steel and a question of whether we'd live out the night. Her hands fold onto themselves, wringing under the cafeteria benches.

"That's right, Clare you _did_ have the same internship, didn't you?" Jake says. "Maybe you can give Katie a few tips to survive the paper, seeing as you were so well-received, they graduated you early."

Clare's visibly shaking. She opens her mouth a few times, but closes it. Jake even seems alarmed, like he's not entirely sure what he's said to elicit such a response, but I'm so startled by the solid fear in her eyes that I can't say anything to divert the conversation from her.

"You can't take the internship, Katie." She finally says, but it takes her a few tries to get through it, catching on her words as if stumbling down the hall.

The statement is said with such finality though, no one says anything for a moment. Katie gives an uncomfortable chuckle, clearly hoping she was just kidding. "Yeah, I can't take the most coveted internship offered in this program. Good one, Clare."

"Why are you laughing?" She snaps, eradicating any possibility of this being a civil conversation in a mere sentence. "I'm not kidding, you can't take the internship."

Clare stares at the table for a second, her head bowed. Jake throws me a questioning look, which I can do nothing but shrug at, even though I wish I knew. But when she doesn't lift her head from the table, I realize it's because her eyes are filling with tears, a few escaping and rolling down her cheeks. She tries to indiscreetly wipe the escapees away, but with three people watching someone as intently as we are, nothing escapes us.

Without another word, she stands up, the table rattling. I can tell she's desperately trying to keep herself together, but from what, I don't know. I've seen that look before. Many times, actually. The look of someone who's tried to stay strong for such a long time, they don't know how to keep it any longer. Her lower lip is quivering and she shakes her head. "Just don't do it!" She shouts, causing the entire lunchroom to fall into a silence.

When she realizes what she just did, she flees. With her book bag still resting on the table, Clare shuffles out of the cafeteria with snickers clawing at her back. "Wow, she's officially become a nut case." Katie breathes, widening her eyes.

"Hey!" Jake snaps. "That's my sister you're talking about."

They start to quarrel a bit, but I'm no longer listening. I'm not even sure if I can. I can't help but feel after all of this, the internship is what held the key. I tried to think of everything Clare mentioned about her internship – a lot, in the beginning. But then… now that I realize it, it dwindled as it continued. Actually, if I think about it, she started changing the subject quite effortlessly after a while. My play, Adam's band; anything and everything was game for Clare Edwards. I tried desperately to remember _something_ that could indicate this change, but I couldn't. Until…

"_Drum roll, please!" I say, hitting the edge of the table with a goofy grin on my face._

_Clare's looking at me as though I'm a complete idiot, which I suppose I am, but she's doing it was such love and tenderness, I don't really care. "It's not that big of a deal." She casually says._

"_Clare Edwards!" I scoff. "This is a very big deal! You're going to have your very first published news article in an actual circulating newspaper. Embrace how awesome that is!"_

_She smiles sheepishly and when I start to pound on the countertops again, she flips through it a bit. But then reaches the end. Confused, she searches through it once more. And reaches the end again._

_After several moments of searching, she pushes the paper away, her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. "It's not here." She whispers._

_I frown. "What happened?"_

_That's when I realize Clare's no longer here with me in the kitchen. Her eyes are lost, sad, confused, in pain, terrified, and so many other emotions a single person could have in one moment. She brings a hand to her mouth and shakes her head. "I-I can't believe it." She whispers, but I don't think she intended for me to hear it. _

"_Clare, what happened?"_

She never really told me what happened, and I didn't want to suffocate her, so I didn't pry. But the next day she was fine. Every time after I asked her how her internship went, she said the same word. "Fine."

Fine is never an honest answer.

XXXX

I'm sitting on the stairs in front of the entrance of Degrassi, waiting for Clare to come out of her last period. I'd tried to plan a date with her for weeks now, but she always seemed to have an excuse not to. Just like she always had an excuse not to touch me. She would pull her hand out of mine or shy away from a kiss. She even went so far as to drag Adam wherever we went, saying he probably wouldn't appreciate his best friends' PDA.

Finally, I got her. I found a day where she couldn't use anything as an excuse (thanks to the help of Jake) and I was determined to get whatever was going on out of her.

She walks down the hallway of Degrassi, rubbing her forearm absently. I can tell just by looking at her, she doesn't want school to end. Then she'd be alone with me, her monstrous boyfriend. I don't know when I turned into a monster again, but I did, unable to even hold my girlfriend's hand if I wanted to.

"I want to thank you again for being a part of our program." Ms. Oh is talking to someone at the end of the hall, shaking his hand. He smiles in an eerie way and I fight the urge to shudder. I don't even know him, but what a creep. "I think you and Katie will be an excellent fit."

That's when I hear it.

A clatter.

It resounds in the halls, everyone stopping to turn.

Clare's possessions are scattered on the floor, rolling and resting where anyone can trip. But that's not what anyone's staring at.

It's her eyes.

If I thought they were frightened yesterday at lunch, I would gladly take that over what's plastered on her face now. Just staring at her cuts into me, making me a little nauseous. Utter terror. But that's not even severe enough. I'm not sure even the dictionary has a word for it. Pure fear.

That's when something clicks. Actually, I _have_ met the guy before. Just in passing, but I did meet him. One day, I was picking Clare up from her internship for a date and her supervisor was walking to his car. She quickly introduced us and I maintained my composure, although I didn't like the way his eyes lingered. I thought Clare was going to say something else – especially the way he was looking at her. When I brought it up, she just laughed me off and said I was paranoid. It was a professional relationship.

Her eyes right now said so much more.

I'm not sure whether I'm more violently angry or sick anymore. Maybe a little of both. When the realization hits me of what's going on, I am paralyzed with these emotions. I want to lunge at him, I want to throw up, I want to go over and protect Clare.

I can't do any of that.

Katie's shaking Asher's hand and I see Clare flinch as if he's physically touching her himself. "I'm very much looking forward to working with you." Katie says, taking her hand away when he holds it for a bit longer than socially acceptable.

"And I, you." Asher states, his eyes scaling Katie up and down like she's some sort of piece of meat and he's ready for the kill.

Different conclusions are pulsing through my head, making me see everything with a red tinge. I think about the pills in my locker, but even that seems futile now. I can't even blame my Bipolar Disorder at this point. I don't think it would've mattered. Bipolar or not, all I can focus on is not tearing him apart. I didn't even know what happened, but the situations are getting worse in my head as seconds pass.

"Ms. Oh, you can't let this happen!"

Clare's panicked voice shatters the near silence in the hall. Her fists are balled up. For the first time in a while, her eyes spark and she's staring at the man.

Asher catches her eye and there is a moment I can't explain. He stares at her with something that seems like a mixture of lust, paranoia, and anger. It's like someone's put my worst nightmare on paper and is forcing me to watch it. During school.

"Ms. Edwards, let's not make a scene." He says, turning his attention back to Katie.

She takes a step back. There is so much hesitation and fear in that one step, I just want to grab Clare's arm and pull her away from this man.

"Y-You can't." She says, trembling as she takes a step closer. Each step is more determined than the last until she's right next to them, staring at the pariah in the eye. "Ms. Oh, you can't let her take this internship."

Once again, there's the finality. "Clare, what are you talking about?" Ms. Oh laughs.

"You can't let Katie take this internship. _No one_ should take this internship!" She shouts, her back to Asher.

Asher holds his hand out and places on her shoulder, saying, "Clare,"

In one fluid movement, Clare cocks her hand back and slaps his face, ripping her arm out of his clutch. "Don't you _dare_ touch me _ever_ again! _EVER!_"

With that, silence settles on the hall.

I got my answer. I kinda wish I didn't.

XXXX

Eli stands in his kitchen, carefully pouring some water in glasses and trying not to think of the rest of the summer. It was supposed to be his summer before college and for the first time, he didn't want to leave. Actually, he was dreading each day that passed. It seemed like she was so far away for such a long time, and now she was actually going to be further.

"My poor Baby Girl." Cece steps up behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "Poor, poor Baby Girl."

Eli finds himself wanting to tear up, but forces himself to go outside. Clare's sitting on the porch, her legs curled under her, tracing the lines of the wood absently. "Here you go." Eli smiles.

Clare returns it and he can tell she's genuinely trying to be warm. She's always trying. Sometimes he gets frustrated at how much she's trying. She does it for everyone. The most for her parents; her mom was beside herself when the news came out, crying about what she could've done wrong to have two sexually abused daughters. Eli remembered Clare patting her arm, comforting _her_.

The days were numbered in his senior year. And he'd have to leave her. Broken. Hurting.

Clare takes a few sips, but then pushes it away. "Thanks." She sighs and looks off in the distance. Eli has the urge to grab her hand, but is afraid to. It's moments like this that he truly hates that man. _Asher_. He made him afraid to touch his own girlfriend.

She peers at him, his hands quaking as he decides what to do. Without a word, she intertwines her fingers with him, her palms cold. Clare squeezes his hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry, Eli."

He stares. "For what?"

"Everything." She sighs, staring at the sky. "I know this is so hard a-and—" She swallows. "And I understand if you can't handle it."

Eli blinks, a whisper of anger creeping up in him. "What are you talking about? Do you really think that I'm such a volatile person I can't handle it? Do you really have that little faith in me?"

As soon as the hateful words slide out of his mouth, he regrets them. Clare's eyes fill with tears and he wants to wipe them away, but feels like he can't since he caused them. "Why would it be anything about you?" She murmurs. "Eli, I'm a mess. A complete an utter mess."

"I think you're doing fine." He says.

They sit for a while on the porch without speaking, the two glasses water just sitting there. Their hands stay touching, but are no longer intertwined, Clare's fingertips just grazing the tops of his palms. "Why didn't you tell me?" He says it so softly, he's not sure if she heard it. Like it got caught in the wind and drowned forever.

"I-I didn't want you to hate me." She says softly, her gaze still elsewhere. "I kept telling myself it was my fault, that I did something to deserve it. Maybe it was the late hours, maybe if I had set more boundaries, maybe…"

Eli takes her hand, her words scaring him. "Clare, you should never let anyone convince you it was your fault. This is not your fault. Period."

She hesitates. "I'm glad you think that." She whispers. "I wasn't going to tell anyone. I hadn't planned on it, anyway. It's just… when Katie started talking about it. I mean, how could I let her do it, knowing what I knew? I-I just—" She stops. "Some person I turned out to be. I didn't want to fill everyone's lives with drama and at the first chance, I cave."

"Clare, what you did was amazing." Eli states. "You saved Katie."

She shrugs. "I can't save myself, let alone other people." Eli wants to grab and shake her, make her believe. Turn back time and get his girlfriend back, but he knows this isn't possible. These kinds of scars never leave. She notices him staring and offers a smile. "But most of all? I was so afraid I was going to lose you. And sometimes… after everything, I feel like you're all I have left. And I know it's selfish, but I just…" She groans. "I just love you."

Eli takes a second. Cursing the man for putting so much doubt in him, he slides next to her and wraps one arm around her shoulder. For a brief second, she tenses, murmurs something to herself and then tries to relax, leaning her head against his. Every time she tenses, a part of him aches. Hopefully that'll go away one day.

"You should've known that I would've fought for you." He replies. "I just love you too. I hate that this happened. I should've protected you. The school should've protected you."

"Bad things happen sometimes." Clare says calmly, with a sort of wisdom that transcends far beyond ago. She looks at him and he notices a little flame in her eyes – something that's been absent for so long. It's weak, but it's there. And Eli decides right then that he's committed himself to fanning that flame, no matter what it takes. "Perhaps tomorrow will be kinder." She shrugs.

Gently, ignoring the tensing of her shoulders and the ache that follows, Eli brings his face close to her, his lips grazing her cheek as he whispers, "Tomorrow _will_ be kinder."

**A/N: Okay, this is really the end now. :) I hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review if you can. And, for anyone whoever needs to talk about this subject, or anything else for that matter, feel free to talk to me on Tumblr. This is such a horrible issue, but it happens every day. We need people to deal. I learned that the hard way. And I know that I don't know any of my readers personally, but am always will to listen. 3**


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